


His Nemesis

by DarkkBluee



Series: Prompt Fills [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Harry Potter as muse, Obsession, Painter Voldemort, Painting, artist voldemort, nemesis (greek goddess), romantic undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 18:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18665530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkkBluee/pseuds/DarkkBluee
Summary: Prompt by Caty 3.14 -Voldemort, drawing plans.The main exhibit? The BWL!





	His Nemesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caty_314](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caty_314/gifts).



> This story is my interpretation of the prompt fill.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, for it is a writing style and genre new to me ~

 

Voldemort always thought better when he was immersed in painting. It was hobby started from when he was living at Wool’s during the Second World War. Supplies were scare, paper and paints even more so. And as the sole holder of diary, paper and crayons in those days, drawing was something of a luxury he reveled in.

 

And now, 50 years past, drawing had changed to painting and became his safe place. The one thing he can use to express himself, to let go of his worries and indulge in his desires.

 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his Occlumency barriers falling and emotions out to play. Time becomes meaningless as he paints, for the first time in a decade. This, _this_ was what he had missed when he was a wraith. The smell of paint and oil, the feel of the brush and the strokes on the canvas.

 

And as his mind focused on his resurrection, his thoughts turn to the green eyed boy tied to his father’s tombstone.

 

Harry.

 

_Harry._

 

Harry, his green eyed supposed-vanquisher.

 

Tied so helplessly to the grave, blood pouring, limbs shaking and red inflaming his mark on his head. _His_ mark.

 

 _Voldemort’s mark_.

 

Thus, it is no surprise to him that the finished painting is of the boy bound, bleeding and utterly at his mercy. But his eyes, oh his _eyes_. Fiery defiance dwelt in them, and Voldemort could no longer bear to look at his work, lest he burn it to ashes.

 

**********

 

Just months later, Voldemort is standing in front of the canvas again. He had been exploring the connection between the boy and himself during the summer months, when he would be away from Dumbledore and help would be far even if something went wrong.

 

But the picture Severus had painted of the boy’s summer months, of luxury and love and every wish fulfilled, was not to be. Instead he got pictures of a locked room, sweltering heat and flashbacks to a cupboard under the stairs.

 

It reminds him too much of his own time in the orphanage. It makes him feel weak, powerless and helpless. And Lord Voldemort is not weak, powerless or helpless. He is the most powerful Dark Wizard of the century. He has left his mark upon Britain, it’s people and it’s histories to the extent that even in the decade between his death and resurrection not one has even tried to speak or _write_ his name.

 

He is not weak. He is not helpless. And he certainly will not let the feelings of someone as weak as The Boy Who Lived affect him so.

 

And so, he picks up his brush again. The motion is familiar to him once again, and the figure coming together on the canvas is one that haunts his dreams. A boy, living in the cupboard under the stairs. He is crumbled under the weight of the chains of responsibilities, lying on the floor. His eyes open in a daze, a lightning bolt mark on his head and his hand outstretched towards the dim light coming from the grate.

 

Salvation for him will not come from him. Not from Lord Voldemort. He had offered the boy a chance long back, in front of the Mirror of Desire  and his hand had been refused. Unlike Eve, who had been seduced by the snake, Harry did not give into Voldemort’s temptation.

 

He looks at the finished picture. The similarities between the downtrodden boy and Tom Riddle are so stark, he cannot bear to look at it longer. With a swish of his wand, a piece of fabric covered his newest artwork.

 

**********

 

The prophecy still lingers at the back of his mind, his ignorance of its words burning through his veins. But Lord Voldemort cannot not simply saunter up to the Department of Mysteries and pick up a prophecy which explicitly states only 2 people are be able to remove it. And since he needs time yet to gather his forces, for certainly a year or two more would not go amiss, Harry Potter is the only viable option.

 

For this, he experiments with their bond.

 

For the first test, he sends the boy visions of him torturing his followers and lets shadows of insanity and anger creep through their link. Reports from Severus two weeks later verify the validity and effectiveness of this method.

 

The next test consists of making the boy trust his visions as the truth. He possesses Nagini, bites the Order member guarding the Department of Mysteries and sends that vision to the boy. His experiment is a resounding success, for Harry Potter has saved his friend’s father and starts deliberately lowering his barriers to gather more information from Lord Voldemort.

 

It is through these lowered barriers that Lord Voldemort catches a view of the boy’s nightmares. His fingers twitch and soon, a new painting adorns his wall.

 

The Boy-Who-Lived, entwined with his Nagini, till one cannot know who is whom, coiled together at the foot of his throne. Nagini is biting a red haired man and Harry is watching, eyes rapt with attention and disgust.

 

But not terror, never terror. It is the one emotion he wants to see in the boy’s eyes, yet even his subconscious agrees with the reality. That terror would never enter those eyes as they gaze upon him and his work.

 

He tilts his head, gazing at the bright green eyes of his work and feels a thrill shiver down his spine. The boy is looking at him. _He_ is looking at _him_.

 

He hangs this one on the wall before closing the doors and leaving for his work.

 

**********

 

The whole mission is a failure. Not only have his Death Eaters failed to retrieve the prophecy, destroying it in the process but the Minister has seen him. The Ministry has proof of his return.

 

 _And Harry Potter has escaped him once more_.

 

He remembers the thrill he had felt at finally, finally getting the prophesied child alone with him. Without Dumbledore to back him up or his friends to urge him on. And oh, how beautiful the boy had looked. In his grief, his wand lighted red and trying to _Crucio_ Bella. The boy was right in his grasp then. Just a few seconds more and his spell would have taken him out of the fight.

 

But then _Dumbledore_ had appeared. Came between them once more.

 

No more. He will not let that memory disturb him anymore.

 

So, he takes up his brush and paint and draws out the memory. This time, without Albus Dumbledore meddling in to defile it.

 

The result is the Boy-Who-Lives, face filled with anger and grief. His wand is lit red with the light of Crucio, the spell torturing a black haired witch. On his back, a pale fingered hand lay, resting on his neck.

 

This one is also hung on his wall, named ‘A picture that would never come true’.

 

**********

 

He may not know the exact words of the prophecy, but the meaning has been leaked. Harry Potter is now called the Chosen One, the one prophesied to defeat Lord Voldemort. Thus, he now knows that no matter what the prophecy might have said, only Harry can defeat him. Can vanquish him. An acceptable conclusion to an year’s worth of planning.

 

He does not have time to dwell on the thoughts of his Chosen One. His presence has been revealed, several of the faithful back in Azkaban and time is of the essence at this point.

 

Thus, he builds up his Occlumency shields again. All thoughts of his Chosen One are pushed back, his brush put to the side and the mission of killing Albus Dumbledore handed to Draco Malfoy. For while Dumbledore is wary against adults and secretive even in front of his supporters, he is surprisingly weak against a child. If anyone can succeed in catching Albus Dumbledore off guard, it will be one of his students.

 

His plans come to fruition and within a year, Albus Dumbledore is dead. The Ministry is now in his grasp. All that remains for him to obtain, is the defeat of the Boy-Who-Lived.

 

**********

 

He had been so successful in pushing the boy out of his mind, in focusing solely on the boy’s defeat, that he is taken by surprise when their wand’s meet. In a flash of green and red, their wands sing in unison and Lord Voldemort looks at Harry. They are in mid air, him flying unsupported, his greatest achievement to date and Harry, flying on Sirius Black’s muggle contraption.

 

Harry disappears when Lord Voldemort’s wand is broken and the scene etches itself in his mind.

 

He returns in defeat, his first defeat in a long while. His first defeat on an even ground, for which he has no one to blame but himself. He sees the scene etched in his mind and he knows what Harry is now.

 

He paints what Harry is.

 

With wings of light, a wand of holly in one hand, the sword of Gryffindor in another and the hourglass of fate behind him.

 

Harry is the Nemesis to his Hubris.

 

**********

 

When Harry Potter breaks into Malfoy Manor and then steals from Bellatrix Lestrange’s Gringott’s vault, Lord Voldemort knows his time is near. And this time, at the end of the days, he lets go of his Occlumency walls and paints to the rhythm of his heart and draws upon a blank canvas the desires of his broken soul.

 

His Nemesis, escaping upon the back of a Dragon.

 

His _Erinys_ Adrestia, taken the form of a human male, hunting down his horcruxes. The diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem, Nagini and Lord Voldemort himself, lying broken at his feet. And he stands over them all, eyes green with death, judgement in gaze, wings in flight, striking down at his hubris with a sword encrusted with red gems.

 

He knows it is his doom. He knows his Death approaches. And he will fight against it. For Lord Voldemort will never accept death as inevitable. He has many things yet to do, many plans to achieve, places to see and changes to make.

 

He is not like that old fool, Dumbledore. Death is not the the next great adventure. Death is nothing. Once you die, your opinion does not matter, your emotions do not matter and what can you do to change it? Nothing, for after death even memories fade and then, your existence does not matter. So, how can Lord Voldemort simply accept his death?

 

Albus Dumbledore once called him insane for fearing death and seeking immortality. It is him who is insane, for fearing Death and seeking immortality marks the Dark Lord as the most sane wizard of his generation. Did not Dumbledore’s mentor, Nicholas Flammel, also seek immortality? Then what right did that old man have to cast doubts on Lord Voldemort’s fear of his own mortality?

 

Even with his hubris put on canvas by his own hands, Lord Voldemort looks at the painting with understanding and admiration. He hangs it at the very center of his collection. It is his gem, his masterpiece. And he knows exactly what the final piece in his collection must be.

 

***********

 

Harry is surprised to know that Voldemort was, apparently, a painter. He had willed his collection to a distant relative with the prerequisite that it be shown in an exhibit before hand. And that very same distant relative has sent him a ticket as the Guest of Honor.

 

Harry goes there alone, without Hermione, Ron or Ginny to accompany him. His friends would have worried and outright refused to let him go, but Harry needs to see this. This rare glimpse into the mind of his enemy. And then maybe, maybe Harry will know just why Tom Riddle had become Voldemort.

 

Because as much as Albus Dumbledore had tried to instill in him a sense of immorality for his parent’s murderer, it had not taken root. Tom Riddle was just a scared, lonely orphan, willing to do anything to survive in an orphanage with a drunk matron and children who called him ‘freak’ or ‘devil’. Dumbledore’s memories had made that much clear. That the professor had ignored all signs of abuse, had let preconceived notions about the child influence his decisions and then set his wardrobe, containing his only possessions, on fire.

 

If Dumbledore had set Harry’s toy soldiers on fire all those years ago, then Harry would have disliked the man too. If he had not explained the need for blood-wards and apologized for sending him back every year, then Harry would have hated the man fiercely too. As it is, currently all he feels towards the dead Headmaster, is only resignation and acceptance.

 

Harry enters the exhibit and wanders around, following the crowd. He has no idea why Voldemort’s relative sent him a ticket for the exhibit, but he looks around and admires the works anyways. He knows nothing about art, but he can still say with certainty that Voldemort was an excellent artist. His works were filled with emotion. A snake there, a mountainside here and a lake to complement. People and animals of all ages and species were painted in poses both realistic and symbolic.

 

Then he nears the center pieces of the exhibit, comes across the first painting and freezes. It is of him, green eyes flashing and tied to a tombstone. Silently, he moves from the first to the next and the next and the next.

 

The paintings are all of him. Tied to a tombstone, lying weakly in his cupboard under the stairs, coiled together with Nagini biting Arthur Weasley and _Crucio_ -ing Bellatrix. It is here that the feel of the paintings change and they all are now named. ‘A picture that will never come true’, ‘My Nemesis’, ‘Judgement upon a Dragon’ and ‘Adrestia Descending’ are all pictures that bare the soul of the man known as Lord Voldemort. Harry just stands there and stares, trying to make sense of what he is seeing and why the paintings are named as such.

 

‘A picture that will never come true’ is Harry torturing Bellatrix. And there, at the corner of the frame, is Voldemort’s pale hand resting upon the back of his neck.

 

‘My Nemesis’ has Harry dressed as the Greek Goddess Nemesis in the form of a male human. With wings of light, a wand of holly in one hand, the sword of Gryffindor in another and an hourglass filled with golden sand behind him.

 

‘Judgement upon a Dragon’ has Harry in the form of Nemesis again, escaping Gringotts on the back of half-blind Ukrainian Ironbelly.

 

‘Adrestia Descending’ has Harry with the sword of Gryffindor in his hand and Voldemort’s horcruxes broken and scattered at his feet. He is surprised to see that Voldemort himself is also drawn, dead and deformed amongst his horcruxes.

 

It is the last picture though, that he stands staring at. Numb, he reaches out to brush against the canvas. For it is a picture simply named ‘Death’. It is of Harry as a child, holding the bars of his crib and standing, looking up. At the bottom corner, he can see a spread of red hair on a cream carpet. A long fingered, pale hand holds a wand on the top corner. The wand itself is lit green, the same green as the child’s eyes.

 

He brushes his fingers against his mother’s red hair and and stares some more. The names of the last couple of paintings reveal that Voldemort had known he was going to die. Even so, he had fought against Death till the end, never giving in and never giving up. And oh, what does that say about Harry, who had then accepted his own death?

 

Soft hands wrap around his torso, pulling him back against a muscled chest. A head buried itself in his hair as an oh-so-familiar voice asks,

 

“Did you like the paintings, my muse?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is left ambiguous on purpose.
> 
> Edit: For those who're curious, here's the wiki page for Nemesis: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nemesis
> 
> I know Nemesis is a female Goddess, but she suits Harry more than any male Gods of vengeance/retribution (at least, in my opinion she does). Harry is more vengeance/retribution than Justice (that seems to suit Hermione more). 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated ~


End file.
